Cars with Blind Drivers
by Coronis
Summary: Letting off steam. Thick, acrid steam after a very bad day.


The style of this fic is a lot different to my usual, cause I just broke my nose again so I'm kinda pissed off. I don't know who the narrator is, but the content (Lord help it), hints at Tseng or, the unbeatable king of shonen-ai bastardness, Reno. Set before Daddy Shinra got skewered. My first post in a month after my machine died of terminal crap syndrome. Yeah...sorry about that. I'm back now though, typing on a glorified paperweight as usual.  
  
Cars with Blind Drivers  
  
I was born into a very special generation. Just like our parents the men go to prison and the women get pregnant in dark alleys, propagating the common curse. We are screaming bundles of gonnorhea that walk and talk and can't hold a job. We are the hypochondriac psychopaths, everything possible is wrong with us and has been since the day we crawled free of those stinking breech-birthed mothers. Idiopathic by nature, and by nurture we drift through our abscess lives with no hopes, no goals and no tangible means of attaining those goals. We say, "It's cool", we could haul ourselves out of our own graves if we wanted to, but it's "cool", there, with the maggots and our fallen brethren who stitched their own mouths shut lest a single plume of smoke escape, carrying that mesage no-one wants to hear, "Yeah, I'm a failure. My stepfather raped me. My real father beat the shit out of me. It's the slums, it's the people. It's their fault I took too much that night". This said there are so many fleeting moments of beauty that if you were to witness them you wouldn't say we're stupid or worthless, just doomed. And we already know that. We can love, cry and hurt so terribly that we aren't just the torn and bleeding orphans who park your cars and break your childrens' noses for a couple of dollars. We're people. Not for long though. Sometimes, believe it or not, we actually have the degree of consciousness required to realise that we were never wanted, that our creators hate us and that most of it isn't our fault. We see then that the few moments of beauty we can accomplish we will remember forever, but that this clarity of conscience will swim away through the empty shaft of the next needle. For that we kill ourselves. And we know that even the final fuck-off won't get us anywhere or earn us the respect we didn't deserve anyway. But living is just too painful when we know we don't have what we would have done, if........That's our buzz word, if. If our parents hadn't gotten drunk and had the ordacity to spawn us, if we'd been born into a rich and loving family, we'd still be screw-ups, but just maybe we wouldn't be quite so meaningless screw-ups. I always knew though, that I was different to them. Everyone from my background who isn't dead yet and actually manages, through some miracle, to "make it", (if this is too full of irony then go fuck yourself. Perhaps I could help? I don't owe you shit, Shinra), then they'll smile their painted-on smile, wave their surgically perfected hands and purr, "I'll never forget where I came from", WHO THE FUCK WOULD WANT TO REMEMBER THIS? Who do they think believes them? I knew that I would not degrade myself and make money off of the manner in which I survived to adulthood. I'll be all too happy to forget it, to die if only to annihilate that filthy sub- culture once and for all. But that, like so many good topics for discussion with your President, is a paradox. I know you're gonna beat my ass for it, so go ahead, get it over with and I'll smile all the way through until you knock all my teeth out. Not that I have many left. Well, anyway, I digress. As if it isn't the very nature of humans to mislay their train of thought. If horses were okay, why did we digress to cars? I could give you a bunch of names and dates to make that sound more official, even impressive, but what's the point. Besides my Celexa will kick in soon. Then I'll be a model citizen. As I was saying, I wouldn't sacrifice myself for those like me, for their fetid unborns to have a better shot in life. Because now I'm self- sufficient, dare I say it, famous, I've gotten round to thinking that they are lesser beings and that I shouldn't feel obligated to give a fuck about them. Poisoned by the Aspen crowd, I call it.  
  
Sorry about this, I really am. I had that damn song going round in my head and it kinda sent me crazy....but that album lasts for ever and I type bloody fast. Hang on a sec.....I always thought that line was "Release inside of me", but it's probably, "release in sodomy"....oh God- what a song........  
  
Coronis, the forgotten Senshi @-)-- 


End file.
